


Last To Know

by Im_The_Doctor (Bofur1)



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Assumed Relationship, Assumptions, Breaking Up & Making Up, Comfort/Angst, Eavesdropping, Eventual Happy Ending, Explanations, Fist Fights, Fluff and Mush, Gossip, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Marriage Proposal, Misunderstandings, Multi, Nervousness, Oblivious, Plans For The Future, Pre-Earth Transformers, Realization, Rumors, Surprises, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2015-10-14
Packaged: 2018-04-26 07:32:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4995757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/pseuds/Im_The_Doctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Elita One and Ironhide are overheard whispering about "going public", the rumors become all the rage. Especially to the rage of the weapons specialist's "personal friend"...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last To Know

Ironhide felt fingers slip into a seam of his shoulder plating and pull him abruptly into a darker corner of the base.

“Oh, hey, ’Lita,” he greeted, glancing questioningly at her hand, still pinching him.

“Are you ready?” Elita One asked as greeting, her naturally cool vocals bordering on anxious. “Doing this publicly requires preparation.”

Ironhide smiled broadly, leaning in so he could use a quieter voice. “You’re more nervous about this than I am. Let’s keep it simple!” Placing his hand over hers, he added, “Everything’s gonna be fine, I promise. If not, I’m sure you’ll know.”

After a few kliks Elita finally returned the smile, offering teasingly, “Afterwards, if the announcement isn’t taken well, feel free to come to me and vent.”

Squeezing her hand, Ironhide nodded his agreement and went on his way, pulling his EM field close to his frame to keep anyone from detecting his nervous tension.

 

“Sunny!” Sideswipe hissed, nudging his brother’s arm and nodding not-so-subtly at the pair. “Is that who I _think_ it is?”

Following Sideswipe’s gaze, Sunstreaker hummed a surprised affirmative and gestured that they ought to satisfy their (in)famous curiosity about this seemingly secret meeting.

—

“Hello, Chromes!” Sunstreaker called, not letting his smile waver even when Elita’s second-in-command looked up from the gun she was polishing with a scowl.

“I told you not to call me that! Only my sisters are allowed to call me that.”

 _Along with a certain weapons specialist_ , Sunstreaker wanted to shoot back, but he didn’t think it would pack much of a punch since Ironhide was just a colleague of hers and had picked up the habit from the femmes.

“Have you looked in a mirror recently? Here…” Sunstreaker withdrew his own and flashed her reflection for her. “You’re _literally_ chrome-blue.” With this retort he turned the mirror on himself and examined his face for any chipped paint.

Rolling her optics, she sighed, “Isn’t it a little early for grooming, Sunstreaker? There could still be a battle today and I _know_ there are patrols to be done.”

“It’s never too early,” he scoffed, giving himself a charming smile before remembering his reasons for coming and putting the mirror away. “Besides, I’m off duty; no patrols for me.”

“If you’re off duty, shouldn’t you be with that brother of yours?”

“He’s spreading the word, just like I came here to do,” Sunstreaker replied proudly.

An eyebrow rose. “The word?” she echoed flatly.

Sunstreaker nodded vigorously, leaning over her and whispering, “Gossip! I didn’t think it would be fair to leave you out since you and Elita One are tightly-woven.”

“Elita? What about her?”

Again he nodded. “It seems she’s finally come off her command chair and engaged in—ah, _covert operations_.”

At that, Chromia almost dropped the polish bottle, and Sunstreaker snickered.

“Covert?”

“Exactly that. If you want me to spell it out, about a breem ago I saw Elita pull a certain mech into a particularly dark corner.”

Chromia gaped at him for nearly twenty kliks before her face suddenly lit up with gleeful interest and she hissed, “Well, go on! Tell me who it is!”

“Oh, no,” Sunstreaker refuted her, holding up a hand. “You have to guess.” At her shift of the gun in her hands, he added hastily, “But I’ll give you a hint. It’s a good friend to both of you.”

Brows furrowing, Chromia considered. “I would say Powerglide, but he’s too young for her. Besides, he seems to express interest in Moonracer—”

“Really?!” Sunstreaker gasped. “I didn’t know that!”

“You still don’t,” Chromia warned, nodding pointedly toward her weapon. “It’s not…it’s not Inferno, is it?”

Sunstreaker huffed incredulously. “That’s who you think Elita One would pull into a dark corner, the _firemech_? Ugh, now I have a mental image. Thank you _very_ much. No, it’s not him.”

“Alright, of course not,” Chromia muttered. “He’s been making optics at Firestar since she joined his team anyway—you didn’t hear that. Who could it be? Is it—” She gasped suddenly, going ramrod straight with a wicked grin. “Primus almighty. It’s _Prime_ , isn’t it!”

Sunstreaker paused, considering. “Before today, I might have actually thought that was plausible. Still wrong, though, Chromes; it’s Ironhide!”

Chromia blinked. “Ironhide?” she echoed, swallowing. “M—our Ironhide? And Elita?”

“Yep, Madam Fun-Games-and-Smiles and Mister Trigger-Happy. Who would have thought, right?”

Chromia swallowed again and rebooted her vocalizer. “You shouldn’t talk about Ironhide that way.”

Her vocals hadn’t held much heat, Sunstreaker noted, snarking, “Why? Is he under your protection?”

“He can protect himself,” Chromia shot back. “But that doesn’t matter. What you saw…whatever that was about, Sunstreaker, it’s sure to be innocent. Ironhide isn’t interested in her.”

Sunstreaker folded his arms imperiously. “So why did I hear him telling her not to be nervous about going public?”

Chromia hesitated, seeming unsure how to respond to that. Shrugging, Sunstreaker took a few steps back.

“Well, I’ll keep you updated, let you know if there are any developments. See you later!”

Rudely enough, she didn’t even respond as he made his way off to check on Sideswipe’s progress.

—

Ironhide wasn’t sure why everyone turned almost as one to stare at him as soon as he entered the tavern. It was the closest one to the base, which wasn’t saying much, but most of his fellow Autobots would gather there to unwind after a long, tense day of waiting for the Decepticons to strike.

“Can I help you all?” he called out in puzzlement. At the counter, Cliffjumper leaned over and started muttering something to Gears, who vigorously shook his helm and turned his optics to his drink. Many others followed their examples, looking as though they were continuing their previous conversations—though in very quiet voices.

All at once Trailbreaker unashamedly leapt to his feet, seizing Ironhide’s arm and hauling him over to the table. “Sit!” Trailbreaker urged excitedly. Ironhide gave him an odd look and nodded at Hound, who positively _beamed_ at him.

“Congratulations!”

“On what?” Ironhide asked bluntly.

“Oh, c’mon, Ironhide,” Trailbreaker laughed. “Everyone’s talking about it; it’s the best news we’ve gotten since we heard there was a new Prime!”

Hound picked up his sentence. “So…” He slid a cube forward with a yet-to-be-determined grade of energon. “Tell us all about it! How did it start?”

“Did you go through the backwater channels of courting or are you just sweetsparks right now? Is there a ‘plan for the future’?” Trailbreaker emphasized, tilting his helm as though he were winking, but it was impossible to see with his visor.

Ironhide balked at them. “How—I’ve been _discreet!_ ” he gasped, glancing frantically around and lowering his voice to a hiss. “How did you find out?!”

“Well, let me see…I heard it from that one sniper who talks too much, Bluestreak, who found out from his cousin Smokescreen, who got told by Mirage, who overheard Grapple and Hoist discussing it, and they got a message about it from Wheeljack,” Trailbreaker tallied.

“And once Bluestreak told Trailbreaker, he told me,” Hound added, smiling ever impossibly wider.

Trailbreaker chuckled again, patting Ironhide’s shoulder. “You may have been discreet, Hidey, but your femme friend wasn’t!”

 _Elita_ promised _me she wouldn’t tell!_ Ironhide pressed his hands to his face, heat washing over his frame, before he slammed them on the tabletop. “But does Chromia know?” he demanded urgently.

Hound and Trailbreaker shared a puzzled glance. “I would assume so,” Hound answered slowly, as though confused. “Would she have a problem with you and Elita One going out?”

“It was supposed t’be a surprise for her—wait, _what?!_ ” Ironhide nearly shrieked, effectively silencing all other hushed chatter. “E-Elita? What in the slaggin’ Pits are you talkin’ about?!”

“That’s what we’re all saying,” Trailbreaker protested. “You and Elita are…y’know, an item. Everyone knows it!”

“No, we’re _not_ an item!” Ironhide bellowed, but all potential fury drained out of him a mere nanoklik later. “Oh…Ohh, _Chromia!_ ”

Without another word he scrambled out of his chair, transforming almost before he got past the tavern doors.

After three wrong turns and over a dozen apologies for close calls with families taking their daily walk, he reached Chromia’s quarters. Despite his panic, he hesitated a minute before knocking.

When the door slid open, he was faced with a Chromia he’d never seen before. Her smile was gone and so was her glare, leaving a femme with a weak frown and optics discolored with coolant.

“Ch-Chromes,” Ironhide stammered. “I’m not—”

“You’re not sorry, are you.” It wasn’t the tone of a question. Chromia turned on her heelstrut, retreating into the darkness. Ironhide followed her, swallowing hard as he watched her sink down on her berth with her arms wrapped around her frame as though holding it together.

“Was I a cover for you and Elita?” she questioned jadedly. “Or did you think it would be fun leading me on? Taking me out on those nights with our close friends, all that talk about keeping it from our subordinates, while you had my commander, who’s like a sister to me, wrapped around your _other_ finger?”

“Chromes, Elita and I—”

“Do _not_ call me that _ever_ again,” she spat, her weakness vanishing in an instant as she sprang to her feet and threw a punch. Ironhide was too surprised to block it, so it landed his left optic and he yelped but didn’t fall. When she tried to swing from the other side, he went into battle mode, dodging it and trying to pin her arm behind her.

The struggle was nearly silent and on nearly equal ground, though Ironhide held something of an advantage due to his larger size. It meant almost nothing since he refused many chances to go on the offensive, letting her lash out at him until his entire upper chest and face were dented and leaking energon. Finally he gave up on the hope she would run out of steam, slamming her against the wall and barking at her:

“Chromia! Elita One and I are not involved! Not in the slightest!”

“So why were you talking about going public?!” Chromia screamed back.

His audials ringing, Ironhide spoke in a clear voice. “I don’t know who you heard that from, but this is what I do know: Elita _gave me permission_ to go public—with this.”

Chromia thrashed as soon as he kissed her, only in part because his mouth was bloody. When he parted them, he did so completely, backing away and landing on one knee, venting heavily. Growling, she kicked him square in the chest, knocking him over.

“Chromia,” he muttered, groaning as he picked himself back up and returned to his knee, “would you do me the honor of becoming my Conjunx Endura?”

There was a long, stunned silence. Chromia pressed against the wall behind her, gasping, “What are you talking about?”

“Elita and I…” Ironhide began again, “…are not involved. She gave me permission to ask for your spark. I wanted to do it publicly—Elita was helping me plan it as an event since I was so nervous ’bout it—but since the public seems intent on lying to themselves, I’m asking you now. Will you accept this dented, energon-covered half-clock to be your bonded?”

Chromia slid down the wall, her hands over her mouth as she processed this information.

Ironhide swallowed something tangling his throat cables, whispering, “Do I have t’ask a third time?”

Whimpering wordlessly, Chromia crawled toward him, holding his helm in her hands and guiding his chamfron against hers.

“No,” she whispered.

Shame and grief flaring his EM field, Ironhide jerked away from her, but she hauled him back just as quickly.

“You really _are_ a half-clock. No, you don’t have to ask again! Of course I accept!”

“Oh. Oh!” Ironhide clung to her and she buried her face in his shoulder. When he felt something wet slip along that shoulder down his arm, he decided it was just another leak and pushed it out of his mind.

“I’m gonna find whoever started that rumor,” he grumbled thickly, “and I’m gonna kill ’em.”

“Not until after our bonding ceremony,” Chromia murmured.

But after the ceremony, before they could enact their battle plan, an entirely new rumor had started: something about Powerglide being sweet on Moonracer…


End file.
